


Part of the Jamrock Shuffle

by Ivyzord



Series: Parts of the Jamrock Shuffle [1]
Category: Disco Elysium (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coping, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Canon, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22295074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivyzord/pseuds/Ivyzord
Summary: Kim and Harry work together at Jamrock's precinct 41.It focuses on Harry's struggle to stay sober and later on relationships of the C-wing.In the silence of the office, as the last steps grow quiet, a venomous, dreadful string of thoughts finally surfaces in his brain.[NOBODY LOVES AN ALCOHOLIC, HARRY...]"Shit... "he whispers to himself already feeling too drained of volition to stop it.
Relationships: Harry Du Bois/Kim Kitsuragi
Series: Parts of the Jamrock Shuffle [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1661956
Comments: 31
Kudos: 77





	1. NOBODY LOVES AN ALCOHOLIC

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter focuses heavily on Harry and his addiction. It might be not pleasant but it steers toward hopeful by the end.  
> Harry-centric.  
> While writing I was listening to Sisyphus – Alcohol.

The regular buzz has return to Jamrock’s precinct 41 after the eventful case in Martinaise but now with an additional asset that their own officer managed to miraculously recruit. Lieutenant Kitsuragi has moved here just two months ago and already feels somewhat at home. As could be expected the job is hard and stressful but, damn, it feels like he was born for it. The C-Wing, where he decided to join despite other opportunities, is grateful for him. He's capable, keeps his cool under pressure and commands respect among colleagues and civilians. Most importantly; he works well with Harry, who was relieved that the RCM haven’t completely written him off, cut their loses and just replaced him with the new detective.

It seemed that Kim, just by his presence, was able to steer the chaotic energy of lieutenant Du Bois into something efficient. While Kim was laser-focused on the heart of the task and took responsibility for the structure and scheduleing of their investigations Harry would run around the crime scenes like a maniac “Jamrock Shuffle” style not missing a seemingly most tangential clue and making weird connections. Lieutenant Kitsuragi learned to generally trust his partner's instincts, stopping him only when he stepped over from eccentric, unlikely but plausible ideas into totally absurd. Kim's no-nonsense, straight to the point (Still not always 100% by the book.) approach complemented Harry's chaotic ways putting his thinking at least partially back into the box. Being interviewed or questioned by them was an otherworldly experience. Tamed instinct, ordered chaos like a storm focused into a... coppernado. The whole precinct could not have been more glad to have welcomed Lt. Kitsuragi.

They have just finished a particularly stressful case both him and Harry where instrumental in solving, earning them a brief respite. The core of their task force felt like celebrating, they are talking by the coffee corner, discussing drinks. Kim participates in the conversation in only the barest of ways, glancing at the desk to his right. He understands that Harry is, by technicality, invited to the outing, yet no one else is willing to address him directly or even brave a look towards him. He just sits there trying very hard to look very busy with some documents, seemingly making notes (As if he ever did that.) The conversation ends. They establish that they going to have drinks at the nearby bar this evening. Harry is still nose deep in some folder and no one waits for his answer.

Kim approaches his desk now seeing plainly that what was supposed to be interpreted as making notes was just slowly covering a piece of paper in blue ink. Few already fully painted sheets lay scattered abut the desk. A pen adorned with a green monkey’s head is starting to look like it would need ink refilled soon. Kim knows that the talk with Harry falls on him. He was a fan of leaving unnecessary thing unsaid but in this particular case he would have asked even without his sense of duty.

"Are You going to go?"

"What?" Harry asks as he wakes from the self-inflicted trance. "No! I don't know. Maybe?"

It all falls out of him as one quick sentence. Kim continues calmly, without hesitation.

"We don't have to go or we can go but we don't have to drink.

Harry managed to avoid a drink after their memorable first case. Kept it under control till now but a stressful week and growing workload didn't help. People talking about getting hammered, letting off some steam had been an even bigger strain on him. He would be as eager as them some time ago but now he realizes he just makes them uncomfortable. Kim's concern makes him feel even worse.

"Don't let me spoil your evening." He looks at him from his doodles and musters a smile then decides suddenly "I'm not going but you have fun."

That last sentence is said very firmly, signaling an end to this conversation as Harry intently stares at some reports, obviously not reading them yet nodding his head thoughtfully at the paper. Kim's not sure if it is supposed to fool anybody or be an obvious mockery but he knows undoubtedly that it's a sign that this talk is over. He picks up on his partners discomfort and backs off.

For Kim it wouldn't be a sacrifice to stay with Harry. He doesn’t feel like he needs that drink right now. He can manage without it. He always could calm himself in other ways. Like tinkering with his MC but Harry wasn't listening anymore. The macho police environment expects them to like it, to require it even. _Funny._ He thinks to himself. _The peer pressure among the adults._ He recognized it in kids when he was a juvie officer and it became so obvious to him that the same people who scoff at teenagers for how easily manipulated they are often are subject to the same desire to fit in. The manipulation techniques are just different, more subtle, often self-inflicted. This attitude can easily exasperate alcohol problems. Of course no one wants Harry to drink NOW but it would have been indirectly encouraged in the past. By colleagues, cop culture, quips, jokes... the Consequences still linger on Harry's face and obviously, in his mind. Kim takes his eyes of his tired visage, a bit saddened.

"Right. Ok. Just... take care of yourself."

Harry doesn’t see the lieutenants face although he suspects there is concern there. He doesn’t look up and responds only with prolonged "mmmmhm". Kim is not convinced that everything is fine but he believes that nothing wouldn't be gained by pushing now. He looks around the room and his eyes meet Judith’s sympathetic gaze. He just sends her a little nod and a mirthless half-smile before returning to his desk. A small load of documents waits there for him but otherwise his work station is kept ordered and neat. At least compared to Harry’s. It's mostly hidden with overabundance of tacky colorful 'disco' bauble. Al least, it was fortunate that he didn't try to use the questionable yellow mug he found in the trash during their case as a pencil holder... Kim wouldn't be at all surprised if some of the 'collection' was just useless junk gathered from crime scene trashcans from all over the city. Harry probably had no heart to throw things away after they where proven not to be evidence, still seeing some value in the useless junk as Kim decided to see in him at his lowest.

* * *

It was close to end of the shift. Harry has long stopped trying get any work done as it did nothing to stop the dark thoughts from trickling down his brain. Halfheartedly pretending to be busy was the most he felt capable of. It was a bad day. A kind of a day that couple months ago would not only ended with a bottle but also, more then likely, began with one. His house was mercifully clear of anything to drown himself in on a morning like that. He made sure of that. Until last night the workload and insomnia kept nightmares at bay, just drizzling at the back of his head. The case finished and he finally had a night's sleep but it wasn’t a good kind. Today the dreams, finally having a time to settle, came back with a force of a thunderstorm. They have left him more mentally fatigued than any case ever could. He regrets ever closing his eyes.

The talks he pretended not to hear still affected him immensely. Kim's concern made him feel like shit at the moment but a quiet thought that somebody cares carried him through the rest of the workday. He watches everybody leave. Kim, trying not to show his worry, nods as a goodbye and finally he is alone. At that very moment comes a sudden realization: That didn't help. He feels stupid that, for a moment, he thought that it might. In the silence of the office as the last steps grow quiet, a venomous, dreadful string of thoughts finally surface in his brain.

[NOBODY LOVES AN ALCOHOLIC, HARRY...]

"Shit... " He whispers to himself already feeling too drained of volition to stop it.

[NOBODY LIKES YOU HARRY. THEY LIKE A DRINK, SURE BUT DO NOT KID YOURSELF. THEY DON'T UNDERSTAND YOU. THEY DON'T WANT TO AND THEY HOPE THEY'LL NEVER TO HAVE TO. YOU'RE A DRUNK. YOU'RE SICK AND SAD. NOBODY LIKES A REMINDER OF A REAL POWER OF WHAT THIS SUBSTANCE CAN DO. WHAT IT REALLY IS. IT'S POISON BUT THEY WANT TO ENJOY IT AND PRETEND THAT THEY CAN NEVER BE YOU, THAT IT'S IMPOSSIBLE. IT'S ALL YOU. YOU'RE JUST BROKEN.]

He covers his head with his hands and tries to wait it out. He suspects it won't be easy. The voice won't just tire itself out. Doubt and fear never have to sleep.

[THEY JUST WANT TO DISTORT THEIR REALITY IN PEACE AND YOU'RE BUMMING THEM OUT, MAN. YOU'RE A BAD OMEN, A GRIM SHADOW OF A POSSIBLE FUTURE. THAT'S WHY THERE'S NO PITY FOR YOU, JUST RESENTMENT.]

He's unable to halt the negativity flowing through him. Sitting here doesn’t help.

[IT'S GOOD THAT YOU ARE HERE ALONE. THIS IS WHAT YOU DESERVE. EVERYONE WOULD BE PAINFULLY AWARE OF YOUR PRESENCE, PRETENDING NOT TO BE AFFECTED BY IT. IT WOULDN'T MATTER EVEN IF, BY SOME MIRACLE, YOU DIDN'T DRINK. AN ALCOHOLIC, SOBER OR NOT, IS ALWAYS GOING TO RUIN THEIR FUN, MAKE THE BOOZE TASTE SOUR, GIVING IT AM AFTERTASTE OF REGRET BY JUST EXISTING IN THEIR PROXIMITY.]

Harry started to hastily pack his things, desperate to keep busy but the thoughts in his head are still pouring down mercilessly.

[OH, AND HERE COMES THE JEALOUSY. THEY GET TO HAVE FUN BUT YOU ARE PAST THAT. YOU PARTIED YOUR SHARE. IT'S EITHER BURNING SOBRIETY OR DRUNK OBLIVION FROM NOW ON. NOTHING IN BETWEEN. THERE'S NO WAY TO HAVE FUN WITH YOU ANYMORE. NO PARTY FOR YOU!]

 _Go home... just go home..._ Harry thinks to himself unsure what that would even accomplish.

[THERE IS NO ESCAPE. THIS IS WHAT YOU WILL BE TILL THE REST OF YOUR SORRY DAYS. UNLESS YOU GIVE UP AND FUCKING DIE YOU'LL BE ALWAYS ON A LOOKOUT. CARRYING THE INVISIBLE DISEASE. BORING AND PITIFUL. THIS IS ALL THAT YOU ARE.]

Harry doesn't remember his way home. He just somehow found himself in front of his door, trembling hands searching for a key. He is unsure if there is any solace behind that door but maybe bringing the fight to a known territory will give him advantage or maybe bad memories will come back and let the despair will finally win? It doesn't matter. He’s out of ideas. Harry unlocks the door, opens them and slams them shut abruptly as if he hoped that the sinking feeling won't be able to follow. It doesn't work.

[ARE THEY HAVING FUN NOW AS YOU STRUGGLE ALONE? NO DOUBT ALL OF THEM ARE DRINKING MERRILY AND THEY ARE LOVING IT BUT NOBODY LOVES AN ALCOHOLIC. THEY PROBABLY COULD BARELY STAND YOU SOBER! YOU CAN BARELY STAND YOURSELF. THIS UNRELENTING MISERY, THEY FEEL YOU DESERVE IT. SHIT, YOU PROBABLY DO. YOU WORKED FOR IT!]

Harry plops on his couch, dangerous concepts start to circle in his head. _A drink... A drink would help. Maybe it would shut this thing up._

[OOH, PARTY BOY! YOU BLEW OF YOUR COLLEAGUES, YOUR FRIENDS, BECAUSE YOUR ALCOHOL PROBLEM, JUST TO PARTY ALONE... THIS IS SAD, OH SO POETICALLY PITIFUL! AT LEAST THERE'S NO ONE TO JUDGE WHILE YOU TRASH THE PLACE. IT'S YOURS! GO WILD! YOU DON'T HAVE TO SPOIL THEIR FUN, JUST DESTROY YOURSELF!]

Harry resists. He shouldn't listen to the voice, but maybe it will be easier to give up. He genuinely doesn't know. Right now he's so tired, so susceptible to the negativity, so fragile. With so many things he have forgotten, he is saddened, that he remembers a way from his house to the nearest store with cheap booze. It's burned deep into his mind. A trip he probably made hundreds of times. He is already making that journey in his head. He's leaving the building, turning left, but in this vision some people stand in his way. They don't block the path, but they look at him sadly, with concern and... care maybe? He is surprised, that there are still any. He grasps that thought, he pulls it, by a thread clumsy and holds it closely. This might not be much, but it seems enough to momentary anchor him to the couch, stop the rough stream of thought from pulling him down and drowning. There are some, who trust him, who would be disappointed and disheartened if he failed. He did a good job on the case, helped people... he is going to endure at least for today. Tomorrow is a day off work; a surprisingly scary thought. He will have to watch himself but for now he feels spent, as he curls on his couch still in his coat, not believing he would get to sleep but still feeling a little better.

Negative voice quiets behind a surprise of the bit of the conviction that Harry managed to squeeze out from somewhere deep inside him. He still feels like a sad sack of shit alone and tired but bit calmer now. _I deserve to just sleep._ He’s not sure he does but he needs to. He has to stop feeling so sorry about everything. Maybe, just maybe, he has been punished enough. His guilt, his getting drunk and dying wouldn't help anyone. Harry tiredly lifts his hand, as if holding a wine glass. _H_ _ere’s_ _to hopping that I_ _will_ _wake up tomorrow and not fuck_ _everything_ _u_ _p._ He makes a mock toast to nobody and loosens his grip, letting the imaginary glass drop to the floor. A thought that he actually wants to live and see thing get better takes him by surprise. He might still have something to give. He rests, shaking himself awake as he feels dream's ghostly grubby hands try to take a hold of his brain again. He finally looses the stream of his own consciousness and drifts into shallow sleep. It might not exactly feel like a victory but he survived a day.


	2. A Wake-Up Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter chapter. Kim Calls to check up on Harry. Harry's wallowing continuous. Story progresses. 
> 
> Harry used to be more honest, right after loosing his memory, now he’s getting roped up in some exhausting social game. He doesn't want to be that way. Not with Kim.

Harry's shallow sleep is ended harshly. He winces at a pricing sound and catches his head in his hands before his body realizes he is, in fact, not hangover. He forces himself to stand up, still dazed, and stumbles his way to the phone hanging on the wall by his tiny open kitchen. I takes a few moment, so whoever calls must be determined to reach him. He clears his throat, takes a deep breath and finally picks up a lime green receiver.

“H...Hello” His voice comes out reluctantly, very raspy, a bit inhuman. There is a slight pause on the other side.

“Hello... Harry? It’s Kim.”

Of course it is. He recognizes his voice instantly, but there's something very uncharacteristic in it this time. It’s colored by hesitation and uncertainty. He must have been worried. He must feel bad for leaving a colleague to his own, malfunctioning devices yesterday. It stirs The Voice awake.

[SEE! YOU WORRY PEOPLE! YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A BURDEN, HARRY!]

Harry feels examined, prodded at. He suspects why his partner is calling so he quickly. He tries to form a strategy. _What time is it?_ _Would it be suspicious if I said I just woke up?”_ Harry’s internal clock worked quite precisely on most days but, for some reason, decided to betray him today. The silence is getting uncomfortable, so Harry just coughs a little before answering.

“Sorry, just something in my throat.” Trying all to hard to sound casual he adds “So, what’s up?” There’s another moment of silence before the response.

“Just calling, to talk about something... and to see how you are doing.”

[WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS!? YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHING! HOW IS IT HIS BUSINESS! IT’S YOUR BODY, PARTY BOY! YOU CAN DRINK IF YOU WANT TO! HE’S NOT YOUR FUCKING MOTHER!]

It’s weird to hear Kim so unsure and it’s irritating to feel scrutinized. The suspicions might be warranted but it still hurts the ego to be treated like a kidthat might have gotten into the cookie jar.

“Fine!” Harry barks angrily “I’m doing just fine!”

[GOOD! REJECT HIM NOW! SPARE HIM THE DISAPPOINTMENT OF CARING ABOUT YOU.]

This is getting ridiculous in a very sad way. They both are unwilling to to state the real topic of the conversation, knowing full well that the other party knows what it is. Neither is willing to breach the invisible line. Harry used to be more honest right after loosing his memory. Now he’s getting roped up in some exhausting social game. He doesn't want to be that way. Not with Kim. He suddenly feels very tired by the theatrics.

While there is no response he just sighs deeply, regretting the outburst. It’s not like he wasn’t close to having a drink yesterday. He looks down realizing he is still in his coat. It’s not like he haven't slept in his clothes on a couch moaning and sobbing. There is a reason to worry bout him but it still stings like hell to be check on like that. In fact, it’s even more painful, knowing how close to failing he actually got. He feels terrible for letting Kim worry. This silence between them has gone long enough, He decides to swallow his pride. He will have to be the straightforward one.

[NO! NO! YOU’RE JUST POSTPONING THE INEVITABLE...]

“Listen, Kim...” He starts, sounding apologetic. “I really am fine. I didn't have a drink or anything, alright?”

“Oh? Good... That’s good.” The relief in in his voice is palatable.

As much as Kim is taken aback by the sudden honesty, there are no follow-up questions. Just acceptance. Harry feels trusted. It’s nice. Feels like an ice pack covering parts of him heated by frustration.

[NO! YOU DON’T DESERVE THIS! No! You don’t deserve to feel nice, you don’t deserve his faith... You’re going to brake. It’s only a matter of time till…]

The Voice quietens before cutting off completely...

“Yeah...” Harry says absentmindedly, then adds another pause to the conversation already overflowing with them, looking for the right way to end it somewhat elegantly, but before he thinks of anything Kim continuous.

“Are you, free this afternoon?”

A pang of guilt hits Harry, as he feels, he have caused enough worry for the day. He doesn't want to feel like a burden anymore.

“Oh, please. You don't have to-” He is stopped. Sharply.

“Officer!” If his voice isn’t indicating his irritation enough, the way he addresses him is. “I know what I have to and what I don’t have to do. Have you thought, this might be not about you?” He takes deep breath and adds more calmly. “It would give be some piece of mind, if we met, yes, but I actually wanted to discuss something. If you rather just see me at work....”

Shit, It turns out Harry could feel even more guilty. Trying to be unselfish, instead came off pretty self-centered. He has to stop listening to The Voice. It’s making it unnecessarily hard for people, to get to him.

“No! No... I would like to meet. What this is about?”

Kim hesitates, trying to find the right words. “There are some talks in the precinct, about opening the union case. You know, the one about the brothers... I’d rather not talk about it in detail over the phone.

Harry nods in response. It is unclear if Kim has heard the nod somehow, or just assumed it was there, but he continuous, as if on cue.

“I don’t think anything will come of it soon, if at all, but we would, obviously, be key witnesses in the case. The C-wing wants to go to Martinaise and do a reconnaissance of sorts. They expect us to stay there for a day or two. There where some ideas about going there a day earlier with the new recruits, as a... team bonding experience. He suddenly drops the professional tone he instinctively used, as if giving a rapport. “I’m not sure how I feel about this.”

“Harry hesitates for a few seconds before asking: “Back to Whirling, huh?”

In response there is a sigh, so deep, it seems possible to drown a grown man in it.

“Yes…. Back to Whirling.”

* * *

After the call Harry still feels disoriented. They decided to go over some things in “Green Mills”, a decent, inexpensive diner neat the station. Harry is glad for the prospect of the company... and food. He wants to believe that he can trust himself, but it doesn't hurt to have a watchful eye on him, for today. As for the food, he simply have none left at home. He was to busy having a breakdown to think about shopping or eating.

Harry tries to make sense of the conversation. So some time in the future, they will try to open a Claire brothers case. They will be going to Martinaise. Their memorable case, stopping a tribunal and finding the phasmid as well as Lieutenant Kitsuragi’s transfer has given a new life to the formerly disgraced C-wing. With the fame came a few new recruits and some of them are fascinated by the recent events. No wonder they want to visit “famous” Whirling-In-Rags _And what did Kim say_ _they wanted to do_ _?_ _T_ _eam bonding_ _experience_ _?_ He is quite sure it means storming the Whirling’s bar. _Drinking… Why dose it always have to be drinking?_

[AND WHAT YOU WOULD LIKE IT TO BE? PLAYING HOPSCOTCH AND MAKING FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS? ADULTS DRINK!]

 _Adults also have dinners with friends, take care of themselves and have some control over their life._ He waves The Voice away. A feeling of normalcy, he always dreaded, for some reason, creeps in his head, and it’s not as scary as he thought.

[You’ll just be boring…] The voice tries weakly and trails off...

He ignores it, focusing on his surroundings, trying to ground himself. Harry looks around his small, stuffy apartment deciding, to his own surprise, that it’s starting to looks decent. A side effect of insomnia and nothing better to do. It’s not picture perfect, but it’s not a dump, he found upon his return.

As much progress he made cleaning, there's one problem, he can’t get rid of. It’s a faint, unpleasant scent, that seems to linger, no matter what he does. It smells like cigarettes alcohol, and well.. Harrier Du Bois. He suspects, that he never noticed it before the memory loss. Now it seems fused with the carpets, the yellowing wallpaper, the very walls of the house.

There are days the scent is muted, almost nonexistent, yet on a bad day, it is suffocating and it makes hard to breath. Is it really that bad, or is it all in his head, stirring some foggy, unpleasant memories? He is not sure. All He knows it that it’s just like his addiction, just like The Voice. He will have to learn to live with the worst of it and just hope that the next day will be a better one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm no super happy with this one, but please stay put. I have a plan for third part, that i hope will be entertaining.  
> It will be back to Kim's perspective. Less Angst, more backstory.


	3. Back To Whirling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place about month after the call.  
> Kim's ride back to whirling. He learns a bit about Harry's past in the precinct 41. 
> 
> He did tell me about some of his past…” she ends this sentence quietly, looking down at her boots. “...while drunk. Just after that one thing, that happened, not long after I was assign to the C-Wing.”
> 
> Kim raises an eyebrow “That one thing?”
> 
> “Yeah…Well,” she considers something for a moment, than decides, to tell him the story.

Kim is leaning, gently, on his Kineema, seriously tempted, to take his one cigarette now. A hit of nicotine would pair up nicely with waiting and getting lost in his thoughts but he has a suspicion he will need it even more this approaching evening. A bit more than a month has passed since he first talked about the case with Harry, during their dinner. He already feels the trip will be an exercise in futility. Just making appearances and hoping for a random evidence or confession. As much as he would not like an assassination order left unpunished, he is bothered by how political a case like this looks. Adding to his frustration is the fact, that the case is not as strong as they initially hoped.

He flips his notebook open. The case notes there are still inconspicuously called “Tiphanie Holly Disappearance“ The prospects look grim; They never managed to reproduce the statement with Iosef Lilianovich Dros in their confinement. Matrenese was not under RCM’s jurisdiction when the last union forewoman disappeared suddenly. There are virtually no records. No statements. No calls to the station. No body. Nothing. It’s not enough to reopen a 10 year old missing person case and relable it as a political murder. _This is hopeless..._ _Why are we even doing this?_

As he flipped the notebook back close, he finally notices Judith Minot approaching him. They exchange a quick greeting, and he, smiling slightly gestures at the passengers seat. They have exchanged partners with lieutenant Vicquemare for that ride.

Of all of people, he expected Harry to be the last to like the idea of coming back to Martinese but he surprised him, again, and agreed enthusiastically. He was so eager, in fact, that he wanted to go earlier than Kim wanted or was able to. Harry convinced Jean, into going with him this morning as, unsurprisingly, nobody quite trust Harry with a motor carriage just yet. “Alright! Alright, for fucks sake. I’ll drive you, as long as it means you won’t fucking touch a steering wheel in this century.” where his exact words. Kim just hopes that it wasn’t most awkward ride in the history of the RCM. Things where still kind of tense between the former partners.

Kim didn’t mind the exchange. Him and Judith where striking up a friendship of sorts. At the beginning, they where just two people, most sympathetic towards Harry, both quietly wishing for him to get better, but in time he has grown to like that kind, amicable woman. She turned out to be another calm voice of reason, taking that front along with him against posturing madmen.

There was one question, that Kim was mulling over, as he navigated through Jamrock’s traffic. Judith Minot was quite young, still a patrol officer, so he probably didn’t meet Harry in the best of circumstances. Why was she so much more forgiving towards him then most people who had known him before? He met Harry, when he was already on his way to becoming a different man, one that Kim still found baffling, but also, surprisingly, easy to like. Not to mention they they met in extreme circumstances. Surviving intense events together forms that kind of bond. They had to learn to respect trust and each other quickly. Judith might just be that kind by nature, but it seems as good topic, as any to kill some time on this ride.

“I Was wondering about something.“

“What is it, Lieutenant?”

“When we finished the case, when you and the rest of your team confronted Harry on a jetty, you where the only one eager to forgive him, let him of the hook and go home.“

“And that’s weird? You know by now, that I dislike senseless fighting.”

“Ah. Ok, then.”

“Well, I’m not sure there has to be anything more to it." She hesitates for a moment "I believed he was not beyond help. I felt sorry for the guy, that’s for sure. He did tell me about some of his past…” She ends this sentence quietly, looking down at her boots. “...while drunk. Just after that one thing, that happened, not long after I was assign to the C-Wing.”

Kim raises an eyebrow, not turning his eyes from the road. “That one thing?”

“Yeah…Well,” she considers something for a moment, than decides, to tell him the story. “If you already hate Thorson’s jokes, just be glad you never met Joseph Mills.”

* * *

She was just freshly made officer, and it wasn’t easy to be a shy, sympathetic woman in that kind of environment. What made it a real struggle, was Joseph Mills. You always knew he was near, by the overpowering scent of his cologne. He was tall, imposing, conventionally handsome, but his voice was high, and got annoyingly screechy, especially when mocking people, which he did often. He was an asshole, a terrible policeman and probably even worse person. She was new, a woman and all together too kind and that was enough for Joseph to make her a target of his crude humor. When she was unresponsive to his lewd advances, he started calling her Horse-Face. She, being new, wasn't didn't know if filing a complain or confronting him was the right course of action. She wasn’t sure what was the unspoken policy at the station, because in places like this there always was one. She tried to brush it off and most of the time, she managed to push on through, but it was hard enough to be the new officer without all the ridicule and pestering. The “thing” happened, when Officer Mills where working on a case, that he found especially difficult, so he was taking his frustration out on Judith.

This particular exchange took place, as most interesting interactions in the precinct did, at the cop oasis, the coffee corner. Joseph was pouring himself some of the brew, looking at the paper in his hand, when he announced, slamming his cup on the table:

“I Fucking give up! This shit is to fucking hard.” He looked around the room “You have it.” He said mockingly to the scruffy drunk, hunching in the corner, trying to inconspicuously spice his coffee. He spilled some of cheep fragrant booze on his blazer sleeve as the man pushed the documents to his chest.

“You said, you’ll take a look, here ya fucking go! I need a fucking brake!”

Harry, seemingly unaware of the mockery, just hid his a small, alcohol-filled water bottle back to his pocket, and traded it for a pen. He brought the file close to his face and blinked a few times trying to focus his eyesight, than he directed all of his attention to the new task. Then Joseph Mills filled with tension and out of distractions, suddenly focuses on Judith, who’s had a simple misfortune of excising in the same room. He happily exclaimed:

“Look, peeps! Horse-Face is here to brighten my day!” 

What followed was a barrage of inappropriate jokes, that nobody was laughing at, almost nobody. Joseph’s annoyinghowl, was what finally made Harry stop scrawling on the piece of paper and look up. He saw Judith doing her best to ignore him, looking around the room, for some distraction or support, when her sight stopped at the aging detective and their eyes met. He stopped scrawling on a piece of paper and started to listen to the talk with sudden interest. His eyes went momentary wide, when he understood what was going on. He Sighed and slowly stood up. Judith looked at him with careful curiosity. She must have been the only one observing him, as what happened next, came as a surprise to everyone else. Joseph Mills surely didn’t notice the approaching disaster, because he continued.

“The best thing about horse-face bitches is that, even when they say neigh, you-”

The sentence was, mercifully, left unfinished, as he was cut off. To be precise, rather, his breath was cut off, by a harry hand pushing him by his throat. He winced at the sound of his body hitting the wall, and a booming, threatening, if not a little slurring, voice.

“Cut that crap, you piss of shit! I’m trying to focus here!” Harry released his grip, and Officer Mills stared and him in shock eyes wide, hands gently rubbing his own throat. Scruffy detective, than garbed him by his collar and added through his teeth, voice now quieter and lower “... and your jokes are shit.”

Harry, released the guy’s shirt, and as no one dared to brake the silence. He turned towards the door to leave. Halfway there, he noticed a crumpled piece of paper in his hands, that he never let go off. He tried to straighten it hastily, on his thigh, then turned around, almost loosing his balance, and, just as Joseph looked like he was gathering to respond, Harry forced the document into his hand, stopping whatever he was about to say.

“Solved your stupid case, ya dimwit” He said, almost calmly, and left. When Joseph finally regained his ability to move, he slowly looked at His MURDER AT A HOOKAH PARLOR crumpled file and there, at the end was badly scrawled: “Smoked pipe. Stood up. Lost balance. Fell. Hit table.” and then a big, underlined “Voilà!”

* * *

As the story ends Kim found himself shaking his head in bemusement, stifling a chuckle. It’s not something he should be applauding, but he can’t deny the humor of the situation.

“I thought you said you dislike conflict.” Kim said smiling wryly.

“That’s why I felt...conflicted, about the whole event." She looks lost in thoughts for a few seconds, then she goes on. "There where other people in the room, yet no one was in a hurry to report it. The same fear I had about ratting out a fellow officer, I guess. Plus, I realized later, more people where tired of the jokes, but no one bothered to protest until that moment.”

When Kim says nothing, she takes it as a sign to continue.

“I stopped him, as he was living the station that day. Thanked him. He said, not to worry, that he hated Joseph’s jokes to. He was staggering, I tried to return the favor, so I said I knew a cafe nearby. Wanted to talk a little and sober him up.” She falls quiet, Kim takes over.

“Not a good idea, then?”

“It was weird… He got very...” she searches for a right word “...emotional”

Kim produces an affirmation sound, letting her know he might understand. 

“I Liked that place too...” She looks sadly through a side window. ”I haven’t been there since“ She sighs and continues. “He made a scene, broke down into tears, yelled at me. Something about that day being his and his girlfriend anniversary.

Kim smiles bitterly. It was just like Harry, he met for the first time. A man who can show you his best and worst side the same day. A foul-smelling reckless drunk one minute, a brilliant detective a moment later. He decides to keep that remark to himself, as Judith looks like she had more to say.

“He told me about her, you know I never met the woman, but, she seems like a… “ She again searches her dictionary for the right phase, then she settles on a disgusted look instead.

“That bad?"

She gives him a sad smile “I always suspected that Harry didn’t remember telling me all this Now, he might not even remember what happened between them... It’s not my place to tell”

Kim nods his face gentle and understanding. “Better leave it be, then.”

“Yeah... anyway it was not much later, that Joseph died. Unrelated to the case. He was killed by a drug gang member during a call.” She says that quickly, obviously not willing to elaborate. It looks like she is ashamed not to be more saddened by the event, but she doesn't linger on the feeling to long, before continuing.“I think that was when the rumors started...”

Kim trows her an asking look and a moment later a realization dawns on him.

“About Harry working for a drug cartel?”

“Yes, well... His outburst was pretty public. Their dislike for one another was in the open after that. In a short time Joseph dies by the hand of drug dealers. These things work for the imagination."

“That’s... quite a reach”

She shrugs “That’s just how this things work sometimes, I guess.”

He realize they spend most of the trip talking, and they are now by the draw bridged. Kim must have made a pained expression, or Judith is just an empathetic person, cause she asked in a soothing voice.

“We’re almost there, back to Whirling-In-Rags. Is everything ok?”

He has put this place so far behind him, it feels like it has been years since he last saw it.

“Yeah, it’s just… weird to be back here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had an idea for a backstory of one of the cases from Harry's toilet water soaked ledger.  
> Hope it was fun. Liked paring Kim with Judith for the ride.


	4. Weird To Be Back Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kim and Harry have a long nice talk on a balcony. 
> 
> "It’s not that easy to take Kim Kitsuragi aback. Rather, it's not that easy for most people. Harry still manages to surprise him, but these day it’s mostly positive."

As they arrive the evening is upon them. The warm playful sun is still dancing around Martinaise in a beautiful orange hue, making the place look deceptively serene. For Kim it feels like a mockery. He softly rests his head against the stirring wheel, as he takes the keys out of the ignition and, not looking at the woman at the passengers seat, he asks.

“Why would he ever want to go back here?”

“It’s not that surprising, is it? It’s the first place he remembers. Maybe it’s nostalgia? Like coming back to your family home for a weekend.”

Kim wouldn’t know anything about it, but he doesn't comment, just sighs, straighten up, quickly regains himself and only says: “Yes, maybe.”

 _A_ _family home filled with alc_ _o_ _h_ _ol, lies and dead bodies. Remembering being tortured by the_ _strange_ _pale_ _emitter thing and_ _getting shot_ _at._ _M_ _ost people would rather distance themselves from_ _all_ _that_ _, but that are Harry’s first memories, and he feels nostalgic…_ _Great._ Kim tries no to think about how depressing he just made their choice of occupation sound in his head. He finally climbs out of his motor carriage. He parked exactly at the same spot as last time he was here.

The ground beneath him still carries residue of the red oil Harry has set on fire, when they left whirling after his recuperation. It did say: 'ONE DAY I WILL RETURN TO YOUR SIDE' and it’s so point right now, that it makes him smile bitterly. A thought hits him, that some of the red might be Harry’s blood soaked into the ground here. It seems this place is as marked by them, as they are by it. He looks around to see the wall his partner has decided to redecorate on some incomprehensible artistic impulse. Well, it seems this place and Harry mostly remember each other. He doesn't feel competitive toward the alcoholic amnesiac cop for the attention of the district. It would be a reckless endeavor. He points out and explains the painting to Judith. She deserves a story in return. Her words have made him less tense. Unpleasant as the return is for him, he wasn’t really worried for himself, as much as for Harry, but thing are different now. He might be just fine. A bit more relaxed they enter the Whirling-In-Rags.

The 'team bonding experience' is already underway. Their group took the table closest to the disconnected karaoke machine. They locate them by black-clad, dejected-looking Jean accompanied by two fresh-faced recruits, obviously all too chirpy for his tastes. Bar is manned by new bartender and Harry is sitting by it, talking to Garte. He somehow manages to look at his formerly worst client both with attentiveness and annoyance at the same time. One other of the recruit shadows Harry and seem to drink his every word(along a strong-looking cocktail), as if some inane anecdote was gospel. Harry notices their arrival, and for a fraction of second, Kim can read a bit of a relief on his face. The kid behind him, looks at Kim with stars in her eyes. Obviously a fan of a duo.

With party underway Kim wonders if any of the people would be enjoining themselves without the drinks in their hand? Would they be so open and friendly? Would they talk so freely? Presence of someone like Harry in his life, made him analyze these things thing more. It was hard to imagine such an outing with everyone sober. At least it’s possible, that the young, starstruck woman, that have shifted all of her attention to Kim, wouldn’t be aggressively flirting with him right now. He would prefer that. She made him uncomfortable in multiple ways. Harry seemed fine at first, but his mood has been slowly declining. He is starting to look more tired, more strained, holding his coffee cup a bit to tightly. His sight starts to follow people’s glasses, as they wonder from the table to their lips, and as they tilt, he swallows. He looks a bit panicked, as he notices, that Kim is looking straight at him, just as he manages to tear his eyes from a frothy mug of beer. He smiles weakly, apologetically to lieutenant’s unreadable face.

Kim has been drinking the same beer since he came. The girl insisted to buy him one. It’s entirely not to his liking, now flat and lukewarm, just like his attitude, towards his new fan. She just stopped bugging him with inane questions. Now, fueled by impressive amount of alcohol, she is clumsy trying to grab his knee. It was darkly comical for a few seconds, but turned into tragic pretty quickly. Harry, very unhelpfully, looks at them with amusement. However, few moments later he goes through his pockets. He takes out a mangled pack of cigarettes, waves them at Kim before grabbing his coat, and disappearing upstairs. A Way out. Kim waits, just a few moments, looks at his wristwatch, throws a polite, yet firm “excuse me”, stands up and follows. He didn't stop at Harry’s old door, letting another memory idly pass him by, and goes straight to the balcony.

Harry is there, cigarette in hand. He replaced most of his other vices with smoking. Kim was more than ready to join him with his own daily nicotine dose. He rightly predicted, he would need, for a situation just like this. He didn’t say anything, just lit the smoke, and place himself next to Harry, leaning on the railing, having a first, very deliberate, slow drag. Next to him, a man was finishing his own greedy, as if someone where about to tare it away from him, any second.

“I appreciate the company, Kim, but I hope, you don’t feel obligated to check up on me.” Harry said, not braking the eye contact in his stare-down with the dark horizon. He seem to fight his reflex to apologize for existing. “I’ll be fine.”

“No, not obligated, just curious.” Kim admits a moment later. “...and also tired of the crowd. It was the right moment.” He accents that sentence, by holding his cigarette in front of him, looking at it fondly.

“Ha! New recruits, a bit to overeager?” Kim, just scoffs in response. “Ok, glad, you’re here, then.”

Harry says, trowing the stub down on the street and finally tearing his eyes from nothing, to look at his partner. “It’s weird to see someone act like that, from the sidelines. Not that long ago I would act like her by now.” He adds very quickly. “Maybe not exactly like her but, you know, just as annoying, if not worse… Glad you’re not tired with me”

“You’re currently not giving me any reason to be.” He says matter-of-factly, then adds softer. “I'm glad you’re doing better.”

Harry ponders something a few seconds, than takes out another cigarette. His smoking habit was picking up in situations like this. Mostly when others where drinking. 'Just something to do with my hands.' he would say. There is no doubt, that he has changed the last few months. He lost a bit of weight. Most of the redness have left his face, as well as some of the bloating, but some became a permanent fixture on the estate of his face. Dark circles beneath their eyes are beginning to match.

Kim observes him, as he searches his pockets for something. He finally finds his lighter. It’s brightly orange, a bit battered, with flames engraved on either side. It has decal sticker on top in a shape of an eye. He flips it a few times before it works. He smokes his next cigarette a bit more calmly. The scene makes Kim glad, for some reason. Perhaps it's because a tacky lighter is a little sign, that Harry haven't change completely and it’s a comforting thought.

Kim could never even consider choosing to discard his past, as cruel it have been sometimes. He liked himself collected and in control of his faculties. As natural as it seemed to him now, it took work and discipline. He have found and accepted himself, and he wouldn’t trade the knowledge and experience for empty comfort. He can’t imagine the state he would have to be in, to willingly give that up. It’s obvious the memory loss wasn't easy on Harry, but maybe being himself was even more arduous. He finds himself not judging. If anyone needed that kind of do-over, it probably was Harrier Du Bois, but no one ever gets a clean slate, not really. Here before him is someone created from old and new. A man in possession of a flawed, battered frame, but still in the process of searching for building blocks, both familiar ones and those freshly discovered. Constructing himself anew, discarding parts of himself on the way. A rare opportunity. Kim allows himself to be cautiously hopeful, that Harry wasn’t going to waste it.

Harry’s eyes have regained a spark of brilliance, previously dulled by drugs and alcohol. The naivete, of a child, new to the world is somewhat fading. His blunt honesty is giving way, to a wall of cynicism slowly rebuilding itself around him. Kim feels however, that Harry still left him a window in that wall. He finds himself wondering, if there would be any, if he wasn’t there for him, as he awoke to the world again. Would Harry was still here at all? He rejects the thought. He learned, that it is useless, to think about what-ifs. Thinking about alternative scenarios, was often a fatal distraction, to the real, current state of things. Living in the past is preventing people, from ever addressing the things they are still able to. Situation here, was, that he is looking at someone who he wanted to help, at a friend. He is suddenly compelled to make sure, that everything is alright.

“How was your ride?” He extinguishes his cigarette stub on the railing, with a little frown.

Harry furrows his hairy brows, as he find’s a correct answer “Not too bad. A bit uncomfortable, but that’s to be expected. Kim… I forgot the guy” He looks dejected. “They say we used to be friend and I forgot him. Completely. No wonder he’s bitter, but I’m slowly starting to remember things. He’s slowly coming around. At lest, he seems to be a bit less angry all the time. Maybe he stars to believe I can do this…" He makes a circle around his face with his cigarette holding hand. "...the whole not drinking myself into a coma, shit.”

“And how is that going” Kim takes an opportunity to ask.

“A bit better, thank you.” Harry answers, a bit of jest in his voice, than sighs, and continuous more seriously “I still can’t sleep for shit.” Kim waits a moment before he dares the question.

“The dreams?"

“Mostly just laying awake, staring at the ceiling. Fighting a thought that a shot of… anything, would help, but yeah… the dreams too, sometimes.”

“The ex-dreams?” A bit of silence. Kim almost starts to regret the direct approach, but Harry doesn't let him.

“Not… not as much, lately. I’ve let that...” He takes a pause, and flicks the stub of his cigarette from the railing, as far as he can. “...woman already take to much of my life.” It’s obvious it’s still not a fully closed wound, but maybe, just maybe, it was beginning to slowly seal. Harry swiftly changes the subject. “When it’s all to much, going for a jog helps.”

“Of course, running...” Kim feels exhausted by a mere mention of Harry’s sprinting everywhere. _A gym teach_ _e_ _r_ He reminds himself and snorts quietly. Harry pays it no mind, as he continuous.

“I find other ways to keep myself busy. You know, hobbies.” He gives him a knowing look. Kim is glad, he not only remembered the advice, but also took it to hart.

“...but not gardening, I’m guessing.”

He chuckles “Not gardening. Rather a bit of reading… about cryptids. Books, articles, witness accounts. Looking into some rumors. You know, sharpening my detective skills.”

A few month ago Kim would still have been glad for that his friend found any distraction from is self-destructive tendencies, but would silently scoff at the admission. He have no grounds to be dismissive anymore. The existence of the Insulindian Phasmid has shaken his world, leaving him feeling a bit groundless. Despite the discomfort he does like to listen to the more inane of this stories. The less plausible, the better.

“If you ever need second opinion...” Kim starts, before he is sure he wants to admit, that he is a bit spellbound himself, but it’s to late, Harry picks up, a hint of excitement in his voice.

“Of course Kim, I’ll come to you as soon as I find something promising.” He smiles a real, honest smile, not even a bit resembling the dreadful expression, previously plasters across his face, that was threatening to crack any moment. “We might need that camera of yours.”

Seems highly unlikely, but Kim can’t help but to reflect the smile.

“I’ve been talking to Lena. The article should be out soon. Your photo will be famous. Maybe, You’ll earn a new nickname. Foto-Kim, or something about Crypto-”

Kim’s interruption takes on a serious tone “I’m perfectly fine with being Lieutenant Kitsuragi”

“As You wish, Lieutenant.” Harry mimics his tone, but the smile is not fading from his face.

Remembering the events, Kim, much to his own surprise, starts to feel a bit nostalgic himself. It wasn't all bad. Well, it was mostly bad, but also undeniably memorable. The realization brought on another question.

“Why did you want to come here so early?”

“I had... some things I wanted to do.” He suddenly look very disappointed “Well, there's no point hiding it now. I wanted to visit the Roy, at the pawn shop.” Now his expression is truly pained. "I hoped, that he still had the spinners you had to sell because of me. He didn’t... I’m sorry.”

“Oh” It’s not that easy to take Kim Kitsuragi aback. Rather, it's not that easy for most people. Harry still manages to surprise him, but these day it’s mostly positive. “It’s probably, for the best. I really shouldn’t install them, anyway...” He sighs. “Did it bother you all this time?”

Right at that moment Harry resembles more the version of himself, that Kim first encountered. Lost, not sure what is appropriate or is he doing the right thing.

“I wanted to give you something anyway. I even thought to order you a rare die or something, but you seem more like a practical kind of guy.” He fumbles over his words “I managed to find this.” Harry reaches to his coat’s pocket, and gives Kim a small shiny item.

Kim studies it, for a while in a way he would do to a piece of evidence. This is not something, he would expect to get from a man with Harry's tastes. It’s a hefty stainless steel refillable oil lighter. It’s slightly radiant, a shade of blue not dissimilar to the spinners. A nice piece of equipment, no engravings, no bells and whistles. It looks professional, almost like a piece of standard RCM issued equipment. Cool in understated kind of way. He looks up at Harry, surprise on his face. He opens it and flick it. Mechanism is working smoothly, efficiently. He smiles.

“Thank you.”

“Sorry, I know its not the same thing. Hope you like it.” Harry takes out yet another cigarette and a lighter of his own. “Got one for myself.” He flashes the ridiculous orange atrocity Kim has noticed earlier. This feels more like something Harry would choose. “I’ll be on the lookout for those spinners, though...”

“There's really no need...”

Harry ignores this quiet protest and continuous, pointing the lighter in Kim’s hand.“I cleaned them, made sure they work. Tinkering with those thinks is another thing that calms me down.”

He looks happy with himself. He doesn't have to ask if Kim likes it, he somehow seem to know, and looks contently at him. Kim feels, that he will never get used to the uncanny ability of the detective to pick up on these things. He makes sure to not give people to many clues to his state of mind, yet it feels that Harry can read his sometimes. It is disconcerting, even if it saves engaging in useless explanations. The lighter easily slips into his jacket’s pocket, already making itself at home in there.

“Lovely as it is, don’t tell me you wanted to get here early in the morning, just to get me a present.”

“Nah, not only… I also visited the village, took a run. Met with some people, with Lilienne… made some arrangements.” He suddenly looks ashamed and uncertain again, but under Kim’s patient, understanding look, he admits quietly. "...for the 40’s funeral“

Kim is not even trying to mask the bewilderment forming on his face. “You where serious? A funeral for your crashed motor carriage?”

Harry grunts in return, not knowing where to steer his eyes.“I thought you liked the idea.” He scratches the back of his head, embarrassed… "Now that I said it, it seems just…

Before he is able to finish, Kim's surprise turns int amusement. “I did.” He says stifling a chuckle. _..but I never thought of the real possibility of a follow through._ _People say those things, but never act on them._ Another good surprise. He notices discomfort on Harry's face, he put’s a gentle hand on his shoulder and when their eyes meet, the smile on his face is kind, not mocking. “I still like the idea, Harry.”

“Well anyway…” Harry smiles back “You’re invited. You are not going to laugh at a funeral, are you, Kim?”

He let’s out a chuckle he has been trying to hold. “I’ll Try.”

And that seems a reassurance enough, because Harry nods and they let a comfortable silence fall between them. A pleasant, warm wind carries with it a briny scent. Laughter from the Whirling’s bar starts and quiets a few times, before there is silence disturbed only by muffled ambiance of Martinaise . Harry looks around, before saying:

“The case… nothing will probably come of it. We’re just wasting time, huh?”

“Most likely.”

Another moment passes. Another salve of laughter dies down. A seagull screams not too far away.

“It’s weird to be back here.”

And Kim smiles, because there is understanding in that one simple sentence, that he would not find anywhere else. There is a bond between them, that only people, who lived though something bizarre together can share.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been looking at this chapter so long I have no idea if it makes any sense anymore.
> 
> It's nothing earth-shattering, nothing groundbreaking, basically "life goes on" kind of ending, but I feel it fits.  
> Tried to make it cute and good-feelsy. Something I felt I needed.
> 
> I know it was supposed to be the last chapter, but there will be just a little short epilogue, very soon.
> 
> Did it got just a tad shippy, by the end?. A tinsy bit maybe....


	5. Epilogue: Burying the Past

The Coupris 40 funeral is a modest affair. Just two RCM officer and a Net Picker at a shore looking at almost completely sunken hunk of metal, with barely visible shades of blue, covered by a thick rust. Two of the local drunks, are standing nearby looking, respectfully, from a distance. One of them, the one in a colorful dirty tracksuit has greeted them, exclaiming happily:

“Hey, Tequila!”

The response he gets is: “Nah, I’m going by ‘Harry’ these days.”

Sad FM, flows quietly from a boombox, a simple white candle is burning, it’s flame tugged by the wind. Nobody quite knows how to act in face of such an occasion. Lilienne, not hiding a hint of amusement in her voice asks.

“A few words, officer?”

“Ok, lets keep is short.” Harry shifts his position to address (not quite) the crowd. “Down with the old, on with the new.” He turns back to face the wreck. “I’m sorry buddy. I can't fix this, but I can try to do better in the future.”

At that moment Kim is certain that this funeral is not for the old motor carriage, at least, not entirely. They just buried a person that Harrier Du Bois used to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it is finished. My first Fanfic. hope It brought you some entertainment. 
> 
> I think I will continue, with the same franchise for now. I have some ideas. Disco Elysium is an incredible, inspiring game. It was nice to write after long years, of not doing it at all in any creative capacity. Trying to get better. Helps with the dyslexia.
> 
> Not to be sappy, or anything but I needed it to be ultimately positive. I had to Help someone like Harry, because I feel i can't do it in real life. 
> 
> Thank You for kudos and kind comments. People here are very nice.

**Author's Note:**

> I Haven't done any creative writing in years. All i can do is hope it managed to be enjoyable to someone.  
> I'm new at this and also dyslectic as hell, so please be patient. I'll try to correct any mistakes.  
> I also wrote it to help me deal with and explore my thoughts on the subject of alcohol addiction.  
> While writing I was thinking about my friend, that I think would enjoy reading something more platonic from Disco Elysium's world.  
> Hope she doesn't hate it!  
> Update: She says, she likes it! Yey!


End file.
